


Sherlock taps that

by gruener_regen



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Morse Code
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 04:12:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1765018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gruener_regen/pseuds/gruener_regen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whenever John is around, Sherlock feels the urge to express his feelings towards his flatmate. He chooses a way he hopes John wouldn't notice.</p><p>Based on this post:<br/>http://wearitcounts.tumblr.com/post/84265058802/wankerbatch-sherlock-tapping-i-love-you-in</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock taps that

“Still the question remains, why would she admit being the murderer, when we know for certain that the murderer must have worn contact lenses? Her eyes are perfectly fine and there is no trace of any liquid for contact lenses, neither in her purse, nor in her flat. Furthermore the blood stain on her…”

“Are you talking to me?” John peeked through the door, hair ruffled and pointing in every possible direction, stormy weather obviously. His jacket wasn’t wet so it must have been the wind. 

“Yes, who else?” Sherlock answered annoyed, still not moving from his position on the couch. His palms were pressed together under his chin as they had been for the past few hours, but at least now his eyes were open. 

“I was out.” John commented with a smirk, carrying the white plastic bags into the kitchen. He must have walked the whole way, since the handles cut into his hands, leaving yellow marks on red flesh, his skin dry from the cold. Sherlock closed his eyes again.

“Were you? I didn’t notice.” he muttered, his mind caught halfway in between his case and the conversation. Partly though, his mind was focusing on what John was doing, analyzing the noises he made. John was filling the fridge with three, no four milk cartons, undoubtedly frowning at Sherlock’s new eyeball experiment. John hated those the most and had made him promise to keep it out of Mrs. Hudson’s view at all times. Apparently it was ‘disturbing’.

“Yeah, you never do.” The sound of the fridge door was a bit quieter, softer than usual, meaning he either couldn’t bring up enough force, or just didn’t try hard enough. Sherlock concluded that John was disappointed at him, or maybe even slightly sad. He heard him sigh as he peeled out of his jacket, always a bit slower with his left arm, probably still had a little problem moving it upward. Gently, he placed it over the back of a chair, moving to the sink.

Sherlock swallowed, opening his eyes again as John put on the kettle. The army doctor took out his personal mug and turned to get out some milk and sugar. John didn’t take sugar though. So with furrowed brows Sherlock watched his flat mate get out a second cup, placing it neatly next to his own. The second mug’s handle turned to the right side, just a few millimeters and it would touch John’s. 

With flowing movements John took the kettle and poured the boiling water first into the china cup and then into his own mug. Sherlock closed his eyes once more, trying to get back to his case, which had turned out to be a wonderfully engrossing eight. But somehow listening to John make tea was a wee bit more engrossing at the moment, he admitted to himself. His flat mate had a nice way of doing things efficiently but quickly, on the contrary to Mrs. Hudson who kept taking her time. 

So he intently listened to the steps and the sounds of the bin lid being opened and falling shut again, peeking while John put two sugars into the tea cup and poured a bit of milk into his mug. Impatiently, Sherlock watched him tidy up, again efficiently and quickly. And as soon as John awkwardly took the hot tea cup in his right hand, handle turned away from him, Sherlock closed his eyes yet again, pretending to be where he should be, in his mind palace solving a case.

“Ahem.” John cleared his throat, trying to gain the detectives attention. Sherlock merely lifted his hand and let John place the handle between his fingers. Without another word, he pulled it towards his face, while gracefully slipping into a sitting position. Meanwhile John hade made his way over to his chair, on his way picking up the papers from the table. Only as Sherlock placed the cup at his lips, did he open his eyes. John had crossed his legs, mug in his left hand, newspapers in his right and puckering his lips at an article about politics. How dull.

After a few minutes Sherlock caught himself with the cup still at his lips. Irritated at himself, he blinked a couple of times and took a sip, the warmth slowly spreading through his whole body. John simply knew how to make just the prefect cuppa. He also appeared to know a lot more about politics than Sherlock, as he frowned at one of the commentaries concerning a previous article. He took another sip from his mug, licking his lips afterwards. Sherlock’s fingers tapped against his cup. 

.. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..-

He finished his cup, placed it on the table next to John and sat down at his desk, opening John’s laptop. With another cough John turned the page and Sherlock typed in the password. How odd, it had been changed again. Sherlock turned to look at his flat mate, barely catching the smirk as he hid his face behind the papers, mug placed on the table, finally touching the tea cup’s handle. Like their holding hands, the detective mused. Sherlock’s fingers tapped against the side of John’s laptop again, thinking about the possible passwords.

.. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..-

The hint the laptop provided was ‘Don’t even bother, Sherlock.’. Sherlock typed in the highest hit rate John’s blog had achieved this month, grinning back at John as the computer granted access, but John wasn’t even looking. So Sherlock stopped tapping, like he always did. Eventually he would try it again, hoping for some sort of a reaction, until his mind would get back to the thought that maybe John ignoring it, pretending to pay no attention was the reaction. Maybe it was a gentle nudge for Sherlock to back off.  
Instead of doing research for his case, he called up the page of John’s blog reading the newest article to check for spelling errors and going through the comments. Involuntarily he started tapping again, just too used to doing it by now. It might as well have been his OCD. 

.. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..-

And just as Sherlock was about to shut the laptop and leave to his bedroom with another sigh, he heard John’s fingers drumming against the lean of his chair. 

.. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- / - --- --- / -.-- --- ..- / ... - ..- .--. .. -.. / --. .. –

I love you too you stupid git  
He looked up at John who had placed the newspapers neatly folded next to the mug and the tea cup, smiling at him.

.-.. . - .----. ... / ..- -- --.- .-. .-

**Author's Note:**

> Translation for the Morse Code:
> 
> .. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- = I love you
> 
> .. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- / - --- --- / -.-- --- ..- / ... - ..- .--. .. -.. / --. .. – = I love you too you stupid git
> 
> .-.. . - .----. ... / ..- -- --.- .-. .- = Let’s UMQRA


End file.
